Home on the Range

This past weekend I trekked home to celebrate my parents' August birthdays. And you're right-- two Leos under one roof is just as dangerous as it sounds! But it sure can be exciting. There were no major battles this visit, which set the stage for some good conversation and even better food!

Jordan, my "little" brother, known to the ladies as the "Silver Fox" due to his beautifully premature gray head of hair, picked our birthday celebration location. His expensive taste led us to a great seafood restaurant on top of Pittsburgh's picturesque Mount Washington, called Monterey Bay. Sticking with family tradition, we abandoned our pre-made reservation in favor of a table in the bar area, where we landed a truly spectacular view with the bonus of some good 'ol rock-n-roll to serenade us.

Black & Yellow

As a soon-to-be 10 year vegetarian, there was very little I could dive into on the restaurant's menu (the cocktail list is an entirely different story-- Champagne + Grey Goose + Chambord = French Kiss? Oui oui!). While my family grappled with the extensive list of seafood and the un-listed chef specialties, I decided to go out on a limb and try the crazier of my two salad options. I thoroughly enjoyed my bed of baby spinach, topped with pistachios, blood oranges, goat-cheese-stuffed medjool dates, and a blood orange vinaigrette. I didn't get a picture of it because I was too busy scarfing it down, like a lady. 

We ate, we drank, we laughed, we joked, and Mom and I even splurged on desserts (to DIE for). If conversation dwindled at any point throughout the rest of the weekend, one of us was compelled to comment on how amazing our family dinner on the Mount had been. 

While I had specifically returned to Steel Town to celebrate my folks, the timing happened to coincide with a less-than-celebratory series of events my family is facing. Our beloved ball chaser, squirrel hunter, toe licker extraordinaire, Maggie, is beginning to quickly decline from liver disease. Even at the ripe age of 12, Maggie has had the energy of a young puppy. Ignoring her arthritic joints, she has been known to rocket off her chair in the kitchen, out the back door, and up the hill in our back yard after enemy squirrels. We always forget how old she really is and have to think about it when visitors ask us her age. 

May the odds be ever in your favor, vermin.

As recently as this May, however, things began to change. When I returned home from college, I pointed out that she looked awfully bloated and suggested a visit to the vet. The vet did some tests and came to the conclusion that Maggie's liver was no longer working properly, and that fluid was leaking from it into her abdomen. The best we could do for her was to drain it. Each time the fluid was tapped Maggie seemed to go right back to her sprightly self. The worrying thing, though, was that the amount of fluid was increasing and time between drainings was decreasing. It has been a consistent 750 mL drain lately, which is the amount of liquid in your basic wine bottle. Unfortunately, my dog isn't filled up with Italy's finest Chianti; she's gorged with ammonia-laden liquid which is beginning to affect her neurological system. 

On the Monday before I flew home, my dad called to inform me of the drastic changes that Maggie was going through. All of a sudden she was becoming disoriented, walking in circles, and even appearing to go blind for brief spells. Her lack of appetite has her at a painful 13 lbs, and her breathing is labored, at best. The vet had been consulted and, after performing another abdominal tap, suggested that my family start making decisions about the rest of Maggie's life.

If you know my dog, I know you are just as flabbergasted as I was. How did this insane, spunky, yappy terrier turn so fast? 

If you know my parents, the fact that they decided to prep me with this news, rather than hide it, signals that things are getting deathly serious. Really-- last year I was on the phone with my mom, just chatting away, while she left out the fact that she was in the emergency room with my grandmother, who had broken her femur and laid undiscovered on her bedroom floor for four hours before a neighbor came over. My parents do NOT tell me these things over the phone. So it hit pretty hard when I got this call. 

I was prepared for the worst when I finally made it home. My parents had Maggie's stomach tapped in hopes that it would perk her up for my visit. I think it did the trick, because, for the most part, I was met with my waggy best friend again. True, she really wouldn't eat, and she stood for long periods of time with her nose against walls (weird, right?), but she spent some quality time gnawing on her toys and even ran off after a squirrel. I was so unbelievably happy that I could see these glimpses of the real Maggie, rather than the sad decline my parents had been dealing with. 

I'm pretty sure that today was the last time I'll ever hold my dog. Probably our final chin-scratch and stinky-breath dog licks. I hope that when I return home in November for the holiday she'll be there to greet me, but Disney prepared me with all that "Circle of Life" stuff, so I'm not getting that hope up too high. But, gee, wouldn't just one more holiday with that pooch be the ultimate reason to be thankful?

Life is full of ups and downs; we all know this. It's important to remember those up-swings, though, because the downs have a tendency to drag you with them. Don't take your time for granted. Make the most out of it, because then you'll have something strong to hold on to when life takes on a gloomy turn. I have a great family dinner to cling to, and, even though our family may be shrinking in the near future, it's memories like these that make it possible to smile at the time you've had, and make peace with the time you're going to lose.